Keno's Story
by q1120790
Summary: Struggling with life after high school, Keno is torn between helping his friends or following his own path...Too bad the choice is about to be made for him...
1. Prelude

**DICLAIMER: I delcare that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are not mine…I'm just borrowing them for a spell, making no money from it, blah blah woof woof… **

**As far as I can tell, there hasn't been alot of fic done on the Keno character from the second installmnent of the TMNT trilogy...so after watching it one night, I plucked up the shiny new idea, (which I have notoriuos habits of starting but not really finishing), and said... Well, what the heck! **

**So tell me what you think...**

Hello…hi.

Ummm… My name is….

No. That won't work. The less you know about me the better. But a first name won't hurt much…Not anymore, anyway.

My name is Keno.

Fairly unoriginal, as my parents named me after an estranged great great uncle that now sells tyres at a warehouse in Oregon. I met him once when I was twelve. All I remember of that encounter was squirming in a metal chair while he and his buddies tried teaching me the fine details of cheating at Poker. I do, however, clearly remember my parents expressions when they came home to find money piled on the table, while I held the deck to deal the next round.

The cigar smoke took weeks to vanish entirely from the house- my uncle left shortly after that, and not much was spoken of him since.

A shame really- he was the only relative that wasn't entirely hung up on tradition and pretence. Growing up around that was…oppressive.

Don't get me wrong; I love my family, but I've always set out to choose my own path. Rebelling when they sent me to one obscure Japanese in-law after another; skipping out on Sundays when my school-friends were at church, instead my father dragging me to the local temple.

Then there were the martial arts lessons. They started shortly after my junior year of high school. By that point fights were regular at my house, and deep down I felt a little guilty for causing the friction between them.

Of course, I was the quintessential nerd- I enjoyed class, and it didn't occur to me to hide the fact. You gotta love that naivety…

The jocks would wait for me, every morning, without fail, at the school entrance. And every morning, without fail, no matter how I tried to avoid them, I would get punched. A lot.

After two weeks of coming home with black eyes and cut lips, my parents drew the line, and after the biggest argument up to that point, enrolled me into the local dojo.

The first few weekends of that, were a lot like the morning beat-ups at school. Then one afternoon, my sparring partner accidentally grazed my cheek with an off punch. And I went nuts… After the class ended, my Instructor pulled me aside.

I listened; he said I needed more control, that I needed to apply myself for myself, not for my parents or anyone else. For the first time, an adult was taking to me, not at me, or for me. And so, I did.

Three more weeks of paying attention sent me to the top ranks of the class, and my parents, unavoidably were bursting with pride. And they backed off, as I promised to keep it up; and to this day, I have.

The other happy development came one evening early June; on my way home, a group of jocks found me- figured they'd get in some extra bullying before football practise.

I sent every one of them to the hospital. After that, the bullying stopped- not right away, but to my delight, slowly, it fizzled down. By July, I was known throughout the school as 'Defender to the Nerds'.

I guess that's where my whole 'hero' complex started. I mean, I'm no Peter Parker by any stretch of the imagination, but I wasn't a nerd anymore either. Trying to figure out the in-between led me into plenty of fights, some good, others, not so much.

So when I was delivering pizza one night, and I saw some guys in stocking masks loading boxes into the back of a van, I did what seemed a good idea at the time.

However, despite my reputation in high school, nothing prepared me for a fifty on one confrontation. I threw a couple of kicks, roundhouses, and managed to take out three or four of the thugs, before I realised I was waaayyyy over my head.

Luckily for me, a real group of heroes took the group, myself included, by surprise. You may have heard the urban legends about them…

It was then I found out what it really means to be a hero.

Too bad fate wasn't through with me yet…


	2. Forest for the Trees

**DICLAIMER: I delcare that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are not mine…I'm just borrowing them for a spell, making no money from it, blah blah woof woof… **

**As far as I can tell, there hasn't been alot of fic done on the Keno character from the second installmnent of the TMNT trilogy...so after watching it one night, I plucked up the shiny new idea, (which I have notoriuos habits of starting but not really finishing), and said... Well, what the heck! **

**So tell me what you think...**

**&&&&&&**

By the time he'd reached the last delivery address for the night, the uniform jacket had soaked through to the skin.

So much for light showers! Keno smiled in spite of himself. After this last delivery, Marco had caved and said he could clock off- provided, of course, he made a point to arrive extra early to his first shift next week.

_But it's not next week just yet, it's Friday, and after this…Total Annihilation_, he thought. Shivering, he shrank into the reasonably dry comfort of his jacket. The rain had eased slightly, but he manoeuvred the route with care. The last thing he needed as an accident on the job- he'd be fired for sure, and at the moment, finance's weren't stable enough for that. He'd have to make the best of it.

With a flick, he killed the motor, and the bike jumped forward, cutting out after a second. Keno glared down at the derelict piece of crap, wondering again why he didn't just cave and ask Marco for the shop's motorcycle.

Must be a little to do with pride- he had too much to be reduced to begging, especially if he had to stomach his boss's smirking face. He'd probably end up punching the jerk in it one of these days.

But not today, he whistled.

The building took up a full half of a city block, towering two stories above its neighbours. The rain torrents at either side of the roof spilled gushes of the downpour like twin waterfalls, and he was careful to walk the bike though the open gate, leaning it against the fence. His eyes studied the place; sure was fancy.

Keno paused for a second; a little voice in the back of his head questioning why the owner of a crib like this brought pizza for dinner. He pulled the box out of the Velcro sealed bag at the back of the bike, and straightened, flinging the dripping hair out of his eyes with a sharp shake of the head.

_And cheap pizza at that! _Stepping forward, he followed the path to the front door, and stood, sheltered under the alcoved awning overhanging the steps. He froze as his hand reached for the doorknocker, sparing a glance either side at the menacing stone gargoyles that flanked the steps. He shivered with a tiny chill, then turned back to the door.

The eyes of the thing…Keno guessed a demon head, as he wrapped his dripping cold fingers around the ring hanging down from it's mouth, seemed to glint in the light. He moved his head slightly back; the light catching the red orbs with a strange glow, before he shook himself.

"Pizza delivery!"

No one answered. Keno shrugged. He knocked again, and then waited.

After a moment, he decided to leave. The entire house had gone from impressive to freakish within the space of sixty seconds. Backing away from the door, he backtracked, mounting the bike with a sudden burst of speed.

Gunning the motor, he darted through the open gates, unaware of the mounted exterior camera following his every move, the lens tracking in to focus in on his face, then stopping.

As he wove in and out amongst the traffic, he grinned at his sudden fortune. Now, at least, he had food to bring to the guys place. Automatically, his spirits lifted.

_A little R &R at the subway with food and TV, before practise. Nothing better! _

Several cars honked at him, but he was too lost in his plans to notice. He took a left into the alley behind Marco's, then parked.

He was looking forward to the break; lately things hadn't been going great, but at least he could forget for a couple of hours.

He hoped.

&&&&&&&&

"…It's time for –Total Annihilation!" Keno and Mikey shared a look.

As the TV screen flickered to life with dull colour, the pair grinned. "Boo-yaw!" Mikey held his hand up in a classic high five, and Keno obliged, settling into the lumpy sofa, smiling internally as the turtle's attention turned immediately towards the coffee table.

The low rickety plank was littered with a lavish assortment; pizza boxes crowded one corner, chip and popcorn of all types, filled bowls that added to the low bow of the table surface. He surveyed the spread with satisfaction, gaze flittering back to the screen.

He frowned slightly, "Can't you get any better reception?"

The orange bandana-ed turtle shook his head. "Sorry Keno-man, fixing the TV for Wrestle mania ain't very high on Donny's list of priorities." Mikey's face turned back to the table, but Keno caught the nervous flicker in his eyes, and he sighed in frustration.

"Did you ask him about it?"

"Ummmmm….well, not in so many words…"

"So, what'd he say about watching Wrestle-mania?"

"Maybe, 'ask' is too direct of a word…"

"Does he even know the TV's on the fritz?"

"No," Mikey drew out the 'o', squirming back into the dilapidated cushions.

Keno rubbed his eyes, a headache building at the back of his neck. "Well, what exactly did you do?"

"I dropped some VERY hinted suggestions…kind of…"

"Miiikkkey!" Sighing, he sank back into his corner, irritation climbing. The guys had disappeared up the ladder three hours ago, armed ready to enjoy some 'Foot' minion ass-kicking.

Splinter had spent the greater part of the day meditating, emerging from his rooms' one or twice, and Keno barely had the chance to acknowledge the rat before he too, disappeared for the evening.

That left two people- himself or Mikey. Keno lifted an eyebrow at the turtle, now trying unsuccessfully to catch popcorn with his mouth. Hoisting his tired muscles out of the chair he rounded the table to stand behind the television, and began looking.

"Whatcha doin?" Mikey's eyes tracked his movement, and watched his friend's head bobbing up from behind the TV aerial. Mildly curious, he followed, bending over beside Keno, munching noisily.

Ignoring the sound, Keno pulled at the casing, which gave way after a second, setting at the ground then straightening. Mikey's whistle brought his head up; the mess of multicoloured wires and cobwebs came into view, and he groaned to himself.

_So much for easy…Now which one of these is the aerial…_ His hand froze, poised above the tangle, when Mikey cut in. "Maybe we should wait for the others…"

"You want to miss Total Annihilation?"

"No…but…"

"Well, come on." He hunkered down, determined.

Mikey crouched down next to him. He eyed the circuitry for a second, then turned. "Do you know anything about electrics?"

Keno's brow crinkled, and he tried to recall, that five summers ago when his parents sent him to his uncle, the electrician. The only thing he remembered, was being bored.

Damn it. He brought one finger up, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "If we cross those wires…or leave them alone…Or maybe…"

"Maybe, huh…Dude that's a no, then?" grinning, Mikey straightened.

Keno sighed, out of ideas, and nodded in agreement. "Yep. None…when are those guys coming back…"

The voices drifting in from the entrance answered the question before he'd even finished asking. He turned back to the wire tangle, the noises growing closer, until a hand landed on his shoulder. He jumped, head moving up to see the smiling face of Leonardo.

"Hey Keno. Didn't scare you now, did I?"

Keno pulled a fake smirk. "Funny." Mikey chuckled over on the couch.

He sent him an evil look, before his gaze flickered back to the problem at hand. Mikey continued on, oblivious.

"Good one Leo. How'd the patrol go?" Dropping into one of the overstuffed chairs, Donatello exhaled wearily. "Good."

"Just good! Come on man…"

Raphael, sending an angry glance in Keno's direction, before he too, moved to sit. "What's to tell? We went, found some Foot, and kicked their butt. End of story."

Leo, in the middle of pulling his bo staff off his back, focused his gaze on the table. "What's all this for?"

Donatello leaned forward, sniffing at some of Mikey's more interesting toppings on one of the pizzas. "Yeah, I mean we're used to your eating habit's Mikey, but this is slightly excessive, even for you."

Keno grinned, and he and Mikey replied in one voice. "Total Annihilation!"

Donny nodded sagely. "Ahhh, the annual ninja rite of…Wrestle-mania specials."

Mikey waved a hand. "Uh uh. Not just any specials…The King of all Kings…the Mother of all Mothers. The…"

Leo cut in, shifting down in the seat. "Yeah, yeah. We get it. It's big." He eyed the table. "So all this," he gestured at the table, then at the TV, arm swooping down to point in Keno's direction "is for that."

Mikey nodded, happily munching away. "Yep." He swallowed after several seconds of silence. "If we can get the TV working, that is."

"What's wrong with it?" Donny asked, leaning forward with a gleam in his eyes, one Keno recognised from every lecture Donatello had given during the 'ooze' incident. The scientist had awakened.

"The resolution's crap…but I think," he stopped, suddenly unsure. "I think it's the aerial…I think…" He rushed out, feeling stupid as it met with silence.

The turtles shared an uneasy look.

Leonardo cleared his throat. "Ah, Keno…how much do you know about fixing TV's?"

Keno shifted uncomfortably on his hunches. "Well, not much…But there was this time I…"

Donny stood, face tired. "I'll fix it…I think I've got a screwdriver lying 'round here." He looked from side to side, searching. After a moment he sent the others an impatient scowl. "Come on guys, help look."

Grumbling, the other three turtles rose, and Keno felt a surge of annoyance that they'd dismiss him so quickly. Mikey lifted up the remote, and then gave up with a shrug, while Donny and Leo checked the couches, and Raph remained motionless, rolling his eyes.

Keno began wiggling wires at random, the irritation in the back of his head growing. After a minute of fruitless searching, he protested. "It's okay, I'll just get it."

Leo's voice cut in. "No. Donny's right. We'll just keep looking for the screwdriver. Don't touch anything."

"But…"

"No," Leo had wound up into leader mode again, and Keno felt his shackles rise at being ordered around. The tangle of wires seemed to taunt him, and he narrowed his eyes. Cautiously, his fingers brushed over an unmarked red wire.

He mused quietly. In the movies, it was always the red wire that diffused the bomb; but he wasn't that stupid. Experimentally, he began wriggling it.

"Hey," Mikey suddenly piped up, "Something's happening to the TV." Now encouraged, Keno ignored the four sets of eyes that suddenly speared into him, and wiggled the wire more forcefully.

"Maybe if I…"

"NO, DON'T" The command was yelled from several different directions, but too late. The screen disappeared into a pinprick of light, and the machine gave an irritated whine, then died.

_Shit._

Keno peered over the top of the TV, eyes widening at the expressions on their faces.

Raphael was wearing his pinched, 'I'm-5-seconds-away-from-hitting-something' scowl, and Keno didn't need to figure out who was going to get it.

Leo and Donatello looked annoyed, but less so than their brother.

Mikey's expression was the worst. Sad didn't even begin to cover it. His head was sinking into his chest, eyes downcast. All the excuses ready on the tip of Keno's tongue sank into his stomach when he saw the youngest turtle's look.

Michelangelo could easily, at any point in time, produce a teary puppy look with enough skill to get away with anything. His brothers were used to it, and over the past couple of weeks, Keno had recognized the look.

The look on the turtles face now, although, Keno realized with rising guilt, was not that look. That coupled with the fact that Mikey was silent, was enough to push him to realize that he'd screwed up.

_It's not really my fault that the TV's an old piece of rubbish…_

"Oh well," Mikey recovered his voice, but it slightly betrayed him, sounding overly chipper, and completely out of character. "There's always next year's final." Raph grunted, moving from the lounge, to the dojo with a look that said it all. They all heard him mutter, '_Stupid kid', _before rounding the corner.

To Keno, it felt like it'd been yelled across the room. He caught Donny and Leo's shared look that basically said the same, before they too pushed themselves off the couches to head to different areas of the platform.

He tried to ignore his own flaring temper; Raph's short fuse had lashed out at them all at one point or another, but like the blow-out of one of Mikey's jokes, they shrugged it off, too used to it to care much.

The silence in the lounge lasted several more seconds; neither he nor Mickey said a word. Finally, after it began to get to him, Keno moved back to the sofa. "Hey Mikey, maybe we can still…"

Mikey said nothing, but shrugged noncommittally. Keno tried again. "Hey I know how long we've waited to watch it, but…you know…there's always..." He stopped, the words sounding hollow to his own ears.

"I mean, the TV can be fixed you know…it's not broken."

He was about to sit when Mikey replied, voice sounding forlorn. "Actually, it …kind of is broken, Keno." He sat down with a whoosh, and the couch protested slightly.

Keno didn't need to be a genius to spot that point. He had ruined a nice evening by breaking the most used piece of technology in the complex. He nodded, standing after a minute.

"Don't worry- I'll fix it. I've got," he checked his watch, eyes widening at the time, "oh man. I'm late for the…delivery shift. Marco's gonna kill me."

He sent pleading eyes to the turtle. But Mikey's eyes hadn't moved from his hands in his lap. Keno waited for several seconds, before letting out a belated hiss of agitation. He ran a hand through his thick mop of hair, hanging over his forehead, and he blinked it out of his eyes.

Bending, he collected his backpack from under the TV table, slinging it over his shoulder in a smooth arc. Turning he left a parting shot to Mikey.

"I gotta blaze; See you guys, maybe Wednesday…?"

Silence met his question, and his back slumped, his shoes slapping the concrete as he jogged to the manhole ladder. At the first rung, he paused.

"Sorry Mikey…guys," the soft spoken apology was barely audible, and Keno turned back to the ladder, and began climbing.

&&&&&&&&

Outside the rain had stopped for the evening. People began inching out of their apartments and homes to enjoy New York nightlife, at the city practically shone from the sheer amount of florescent lights that brightened the streets.

But he didn't see it. Scuffing his worn sneakers against the pavement, Keno once again thought of home. Images and random snatches of conversation floated around in circles inside his head, and he lowered his gaze to his feet, kicking out in frustration at it all.

His parents had been right. For all their lectures, disappointment and hurt had been spot on- he was a quiet loner.

Or as his last girlfriend had so delicately put it; a directionless pain in the arse, with a tendency to seek out trouble like a heat tracking missile. Too bad she wasn't here to see him now. It would've given her a real kick.

_I am so pathetic. _That one thought rose up, and blanked out everything else. The backpack slid down, and he shrugged the strap onto his shoulder, not watching the ground a head of him. His thoughts had taken him somewhere else.


	3. Flashbacks

**DICLAIMER: I delcare that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are not mine…I'm just borrowing them for a spell, making no money from it, blah blah woof woof… **

**As far as I can tell, there hasn't been alot of fic done on the Keno character from the second installmnent of the TMNT trilogy...so after watching it one night, I plucked up the shiny new idea, (which I have notoriuos habits of starting but not really finishing), and said... Well, what the heck! **

**So tell me what you think...**

&&&&&&&

_Moving forward, he walked through the hall, the familiarity of the walls, the rooms struck him in a deep, emotional place, and his mask slipped for a moment._

_&&&&&&_

_Arriving home, he set his delivery jacket and keys down on the bench. The house was oddly silent, and only light illuminating the kitchen filtered through from the streetlamps outside. _

_He called out to his parents. Hearing nothing, he shrugged, moving further into the house. Figuring they were asleep, he tiptoed past the lounge, trailing down the hallway to his room. He closed the door quietly, his hand feeling for the light switch. _

_The bulb switched on with a click. He turned, ready to climb into bed; he was exhausted. And his jaw dropped open. There was no bed. _

_Or desk, or chair…_

_The room was empty. Only the indentations on the carpet gave way that, until recently, the room had been occupied. _

_Suddenly, he turned, tearing the door open, and ran through the rest of the rooms, turning on lights as he went. _

_The dining room: empty. _

_The lounge: empty._

_The bathroom; empty. Every little bit of furniture was gone. _

_He felt like he was drowning, he couldn't believe this wasn't a dream. He stopped in the hall, overlooking the lounge. There were no broken windows; the doors hadn't been forced open- the house had been locked up tight. _

_Frantic, he called out again, this time his voice reached a screaming pitch. "Mom, Dad…ANYBODY!" This couldn't be happening…it just couldn't. He thought of his parents, and turned back, running, his heart pumping wildly. _

_He paused outside their room; hand on the doorknob, dread filling his stomach, making him sick. Breathing out, he opened the door and went in. _

"_No," he whispered, leaning against the door for strength, the truth finally hitting him. The shadows played over his agonised face, his eyes darting across the space, unable to accept the emptiness of the room. The silence that met his ears was deafening, and he sank to the floor, knees coming up to support his head. _

_There was nothing; the room that had once comforted him with its warmth, the bed he'd climbed into as a child, his nightmares fleeing into the night. The oriental paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling he'd broken, and then tried to repair again with duct tape…His parents had placed them with amused pride in the centre of the room. _

_It was all gone. There was nothing…Nobody. Apparently his parents had been true to their word…the fight earlier that morning coming back with startling clarity. _

_The fights were happening on a daily basis now. This time, he'd told them to stop melding- they were still living back in Japan, no matter where they called home…And they had said things. They had yelled, back and forth; him letting out a lifetime of frustration, them growing angrier and angrier, until…_

_She'd hit him…He now reached up and cupped his cheek, eyes glistening as he took in the darkened room. _

_He'd sworn, and she'd slapped him…His parents had never, in their life, touched him like that, and there they were, and she started crying. His father told him, as he gathered up his work jacket…_

"_Leave and we won't be there when you got back." _

_The voice of his father echoed again and again in his ears, and he closed his eyes. Placing his head on his knees, his shoulders shook, and he let go of the anger, crying burning tears. His sobs were the only noise in the still house. _

_He cried out into the darkness...A horrible, lonely weight settling over him. No-one would come…_

_Because there was no-one there. _

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­&&&&&&

_Later, much later, after he'd exhausted himself crying, he awoke on the floor of his parent's room, disorientated. It took a moment for his head to clear, and he stood, eyes coldly visioning the last hours. _

_Moving forward, he walked through the hall, the familiarity of the walls, the rooms struck him in a deep, emotional place, and his mask slipped for a moment. _

_Then he saw the spaces, the emptiness that mocked him, the memories that seemed betrayed by a fight that grew smaller and smaller the more time separated him from that morning. His watch flashed 2am, and he pulled it together. Barely. _

_The kitchen, stark except for his jacket and keys, was reached before he'd even realised he was moving again, but he found he really didn't care. The numbness blissfully kept him from feeling the brunt of it, for now. _

_Gathering up his things with a horrible finality, he tugged his cell free of his jacket pocket, and stared at it, uncertain who to call. His school buddies wouldn't care, and he had no relatives in the city to stay with. _

_He thought for a minute; his thumb poised above the keypad, until a name jumped out at him from his jumbled, chaotic reflection. He struggled with it for about five minutes, before he dialled, and lifted the little thing to his ear, the ringing drawing out longer and longer as he waited, nerves stretched tight. _

_After the twelfth ring, a sleepy female voice answered. "Yes?" _

_He sent up a quick prayer of thanks then spoke, "April. It's me. It's Keno." _

_There was a slight pause, and then, "Keno…It's 2am." Then the voice changed, concerned. "What's wrong? Are the guys alright?" _

_He bristled slightly, then remembered he was calling for help. "They're fine, but…I." He stopped, clearing his suddenly tight throat. "…I need a favour…" He took a deep breath, before everything came spilling out. _

_April was silent for a long time, and Keno thought she'd hung up, until her voice, shining and clear, came through the phone. _

"_How fast can you gather up your stuff and get to my apartment?" _

_Two days later, he saw the morning sunrise through an entirely alien set of windows. The numbing coldness of that night was still there, but slowly, it had begun melting since he'd woken on the first day. _

_April, to her credit, had taken over the situation remarkably well. Keno realised, at one point, he'd have to properly thank her for everything. _

_He was so lost in thought; he started when her voice sounded right next to him. "Hey." She smiled, handing him a steaming mug before settling down on the chair across from his. _

_Accepting the coffee, he held it between his hands, the warm tufts of steam rising up into the chill of the morning. He looked up at her, and caught her studying him over the rim of her mug. Lowering her coffee to her lap, she stared back, saying nothing. _

"_Thanks," he offered up lamely, unable to think of anything else to say. "Thank you for everything. You didn't have to, but you did. And I'm grateful."_

"_I will repay you, but right now, things may be a little tight, but I will…" _

"_Hey, it's okay. Believe me: one human houseguest is a lot easier to manage than four teenage turtles and a rat." He cracked a smile, and sipped his coffee, eyes drifting back to the windows. _

"_Keno," April started, "I understand this is going to be a bad time for you, but…" _

_His head jerked up. 'Here's where she tells me to leave'. The muscles in his arm tensed, and his grip on the mug wavered. He'd been expecting this, naturally, but not so soon. Depression began to sink into him and he almost missed her next words. _

"_But I want you to know that you can come to me for support; the guys too. They'll be more than happy to help. And even though we don't know each other very well, I just hope you can come to me again if you need to." As she finished, he let his breath in a whoosh, consciously forcing himself to relax._

_She studied his face. "Are you okay?" _

"_Fine." He took a nonchalant sip of his coffee. She squinted her eyes, then nodded to herself, satisfied her words had gotten through. Reaching down, she picked up her cup and straightened smoothly, moving off towards the kitchen area. _

_Keno sat, processing her speech for a while. She reappeared, dressed smartly in a business suit, her hair swept into an up style. With a jolt, he looked at the clock; he realized he'd been thinking for over a half hour. _

_She rushed about, calling out as she went. "Okay, spare keys are by the phone. I should finish around five, but don't worry if it's later. There should be food in the cupboards- however there is an all night store than delivers around the corner." _

_She was almost at the door when he called out. _

"_April?" _

_She paused, keys in hand. "Yes?" _

_His eyes, that had avoided her all morning, suddenly pierced into hers, and she drew a quick breath. _

"_I appreciate everything you've done for me, and what you've said helps. But," he stood, eyes never leaving hers. "I need you to promise me something." _

_Nodding, she swallowed. "Sure." _

_He smiled a little at that, continuing on. "Thanks." His voice took on a hard edge. "I need you to promise you won't tell the guys. Raph, Leo…especially Mikey…I don't want them to know." _

"_But..." She started, and he continued on, ignoring her completely. _

"_They've had a lot of stuff to deal with lately. To have to add to it with…It wouldn't be fair. And selfishly, I don't think I can handle anyone asking about it, or talking about feelings. So, I'm asking you to promise you won't tell anyone. Please." _

_April didn't speak at first. Then, "You do realise you're asking me to lie to them?" _

_Keno shook his head. "No, not lie, just not say anything." _

"_A lie by omission is still a lie." She started, but he kept staring at her, and finally, she agreed. "Fine. Alright. I won't say a thing to the guys about it. Happy?" _

_Keno nodded, turning to pick up his cup and head to the kitchen. Halfway there, April's voice lanced out from the door. _

"_Keno, when you are ready to talk about it…" _

_He cut in, smiling. "You'll be there when I do." _

_She smiled too then, closing the door on her parting shot. "Good." _


	4. The Brush Thickens

**DICLAIMER: I delcare that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are not mine…I'm just borrowing them for a spell, making no money from it, blah blah woof woof… **

**As far as I can tell, there hasn't been alot of fic done on the Keno character from the second installmnent of the TMNT trilogy...so after watching it one night, I plucked up the shiny new idea, (which I have notoriuos habits of starting but not really finishing), and said... Well, what the heck! **

**So tell me what you think...**

&&&&&&

A car horn sounding dangerously close brought him shockingly, and suddenly back to the real world. Realising he'd stepped off the curb into oncoming traffic, he back-pedalled wildly, his sneaker heel hitting the curb jarringly, and sent him sprawling.

_Great, wonderful! _He sat very still, breathing deep to control his temper, but gave up after a minute. In a sudden explosion of anger, he slammed his fist into the ground, again and again, drawing blood from his agonised knuckles. He barely noticed.

Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped. Breathing hard through clenched teeth, Keno saw the spot he'd been pounding, stained slick with bright crimson, and realising, brought his hand up, wincing slightly at the damage. Most of the skin that wasn't torn and bleeding was red raw- damn it!

Wearily, he stood, distantly watching the lines and lines of cars that passed. Midnight was an hour away, but the nightlife was still very much alive, not that he really paid attention to it. Wild parties, and nightclubs lost their appeal after college, and he'd finally settled into his own patterns, focusing on his friends, practise, work…determined to put the horrors of last month behind him.

Or he tried to, at least. It was always there- his last thoughts before sleep, and the first when he woke up. Only in the company of friends did he forget, and of course practise…

Shit! He picked up the pace, his hands drawn into his leather jacket pockets, and sped down the remaining city blocks between him and his destination. Eyes downcast, he avoided people's nervous glances, hunching further, his collar pulled up. After several minutes, he slowed, checking over his shoulder before turning suddenly into an alleyway on his right. Sticking to the walls, he let the shadows cover him, and double checking to make sure the way was clear, he paused.

Satisfied he was alone, he reached out, grabbing the corner of the wire fence dividing the alley, and yanked it up, hunkering down to squeeze through the tiny space, careful not to snag his backpack on the sharp metal.

On the other side, he straightened, and relaxed, jogging leisurely past the rows of trashcans, noise wrinkled against the pungent smell. As he reached the end, he swerved slightly, turning left without breaking stride.

The warehouse, as it stood before him, had been abandoned since the early nineties, but with all the property development in the city, it had been lost under mounds of red tape. And had remained standing til today; a safe haven for rats, or any other vermin that happened to discover it.

Panting from the adrenaline rush, Keno stood, just taking in the sight of the corrugated monolith. The stillness of the night was deeper here, and it always filled him with a peaceful feeling, the stars shining clearer without the canopy of city lights littering the streets.

A movement off to his left sounded, perking his ears, and he was jolted as the stillness was broken. He waited, slowly moving back into the shadows, shrugging off his backpack in anticipation.

A shadow shifted from behind him, but it had barely a second to register before an arm snaked around his neck, strong and unyielding as it tightened against his windpipe.

A voice, hot and raspy, blew against his cheek. He jerked suddenly; the grip tightened, and he choked, gasping desperately, until a second later it eased again.

"Well, well, well! Look who finally decided to show his face around here again!" Suddenly, he was pulled backwards, and slammed face first into the metal fence, his body bouncing from impact.

The voice spoke again, growing deep with anger. "The Foot doesn't take kindly to betrayers; so how about we use you-" Keno kicked out backwards, and was rewarded with another slam, this time, his head hit the metal, and he saw black for a moment. "-To send a message to your friends. What do you say boys?"

A rippling laugh sounded from the shadows, several figures emerging blurrily at the edge of his vision. A few stragglers lingered behind, unsure, others moving up to slap his exposed cheek, and he forced the anger back down, mind working furiously.

"Come on, Karate Kid," one sneered, heavy set and cruel, "Fight back- Or are you too scared?"

Keno breathed through his nose, and shot back "Perhaps I'll just kick your arse for a warm-up, hey Grandpa?"

Exhaling sharply, he prepared, closing his eyes in anticipation. He allowed himself a small grin as the thug cursed loudly. Silently, he imagined the scene behind him, the guy winding back into a fist, his captor shifting weight to avoid being hit.

That moment the pressure on his arm eased; and he moved.

He jerked, his neck twisting painfully as he dodged a punch, letting his momentum carry his captor backwards. Leaning back, he brought up both legs and pushed off from the fence, the hit bouncing off into the wire, and the thug swore again, pained and angry.

By now, he guy had only the barest grip on his forearm; he looked up into Keno's smiling face, his eyes widening as his former prisoner drew his arm back, and sent it flying towards his face. He hit the ground with a thud, and Keno jerked his arm out of the fading grip.

Now he was free. He surveyed the group: neither one made any move, but he counted at least ten other Foot members. Nine on one- He liked those odds.

"So, anyone else of you idiots want to try?" Keno settled back into his starting stance, one hand shifting up to give them the 'come here' wave with a grin.

Silence cut through the alley. None of the thugs made a move until a voice, decidedly female, echoed up from the back.

"Je-sus!" Keno's eyes widened as the girl shoved her way to the front, the group shifting in a decidedly uncomfortable hunch.

She strode over to the thug on the ground. "How many times have we discussed this Allen? How many?" Disgusted, she rolled her eyes at his groan of pain, before turning to the rest of the group. They all took a collective step back.

"And what about the rest of you? Huh!" By that point, all the men were standing, eyes on the ground, and all smiles had disappeared. No-one dared to say a word, but even those that would have protested, knew better. So they all just stood there, waiting it through.

"We formed this group to get away from the violence and evil of the Foot! And what the hell are you doing now?" She pointed a finger at the front row, and they all flushed. "Those uniforms are to keep people away from us- not to scare the neighbourhood or other members for a giggle. Go back to the dojo and put them back NOW!" They couldn't move fast enough, the others shifting to let them back through, secretly wishing they could go too.

Keno caught himself smiling, but quickly wiped it off his face before she circled round, her glare spearing him with an unsettling, female violence. He waved, acknowledging her for the first time since she'd spoken.

"Hey Cherice," he offered up gamely.

She didn't swallow it for a minute. "Don't even think of pretending this isn't your fault either."

"But, I…"

She cut in, intent. "No, don't deny it either, 'Mister- I-told-you-the-pads-are-for-kids' crap." She moved closer, standing toe to toe with him, punctuating each word with a finger-jab to his chest.

"Come on, kiddo, no biggie." He shrugged, unconcerned with her rage, but internally winced as her eyes widened comically at the pet name, before shrinking into slits, hands balling into fists.

The others lingered as she addressed Keno, then moved off, but two stragglers, and Allen, caught his reply, and grimaced, surprised by his courage…or insane stupidity. They took the opportunity to cough, loud, hacking noises of, 'whipped.'

He heard, and sent them both a vile look over her shoulder. "Next time, it's your turn to get punked."

They blanched; his pranks were famously humiliating experiences, orchestrated for maximum effect and longevity. Sparing one another a glance, they offered an apologetic shrugs, before her voice turned them an even lighter shade of red.

"This isn't a spectator event; so beat it before I put you both on clean-up duty!"

The two scurried off, leaving the three in the alley. It was silent for a while; Keno wondered whether Cherice had finished, but doubted it.

"So," she relaxed, rocking back on her heels, "Are you going to tell me about it?"

He jolted; her sudden mood shift catching him unaware. "Ummmm…About what?"

She sighed, her eyes drifted down. Keno followed her gaze to his left hand. _Oh, that_. "It's nothing."

He caught her look. "It was just an accident- nothing major."

Her eyebrow raised in amusement. "Riiigght!" Pausing, she bent to haul Allen back to his feet, clutching his arm as he swayed slightly.

Assured he was safely upright, she clicked her tongue. "Please tell me you at least made a dent, a large crack, anything!"

Keno stared; confused. "How did you…?"

She shook her head, and Allen spoke up. "Come on Keno, many of us have ended up punching walls at one point or another." He smirked, crooked, one arm slung over Cherice's shoulder. "What give's us our charm!"

She let go, shoving him back, "Well you're obviously better. And," she made a face, "By the way, may I add, gross. Try again sometime, Allen, when your face hasn't been used to mop the floor."

"Oh" he placed a hand over his heart, mock hurt, "that pains me. Right here." He grinned as she cuffed him twice.

"Isn't it cute how they punch you and expect it to hurt?" The pair laughed at her affronted expression, and she stalked off, swearing long strings of Chinese curses over her shoulder.

Allen stepped over to Keno, his expression repentant. "Sorry if we did scare ya, all kidding aside. Cherice's right; even though you did set the dojo back for that fake parring sword incident…"

"That," Keno cut in, indignant, "wasn't all me, you know."

Allen continued, ignoring his outburst. "…and the shaving incident, for which you still aren't forgiven, by the way….But…"

"Yeah, yeah," Keno butted in, knowing the next words out of his friend's mouth. "'Hurts are frequent for the body, good for the soul, and often, a necessary evil of the mind.' Quoting Chan won't help you out of this apology!"

Allen turned back down the alley, stopping at the corner.

"Who's apologising?" He grinned. "Not I."

Keno smirked; it was always like that with Allen and Cherice. Five minutes with them, and he shifted back into his old self. He had missed it.

Allen called out again, "Coming to practise or what, Karate Kid?"

Smiling, Keno retrieved his discarded backpack, swinging it up onto his shoulder, and moved forward.

"Sure Grandpa. See if you can stop me."


	5. A Thorn in the Side is Worth

**DICLAIMER: I delcare that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are not mine…I'm just borrowing them for a spell, making no money from it, blah blah woof woof… **

**As far as I can tell, there hasn't been alot of fic done on the Keno character from the second installmnent of the TMNT trilogy...so after watching it one night, I plucked up the shiny new idea, (which I have notoriuos habits of starting but not really finishing), and said... Well, what the heck! **

**So tell me what you think...**

**&&&&&&**

Splinter's visions were never very accurate; a flash of a name, a face, a millisecond of an image that froze itself in his minds eye after a deep meditation. A whispering at the edges of 'The Sight', fading into black as his mind shifted, and he became aware of his physical presence once again.

His first master had spent long, deep hours in the wakeful slumber, legs crossed, shadowed into the far corners of the room. His hand never strayed from above the wickedly curved dagger hidden within the folds of his gi. His master has never, until the moment of his death, been more than a second off guard.

Splinter had tried, over the years, to instil such wariness in his own children, but like all young men, only half listened to his more strident teachings with one ear. Splinter observed dryly, that the other ear had been much too busy filtering his words out with the noise from the television.

For years, through many of their battles, he had always relied on the importance such forewarnings gave them, when on the rare occasions, silence filled the subway, and he could meditate easier. His four sons were a welcome blessing he would trade for nothing, but they could make enough racket to wake the dead from slumber! Not surprisingly, lately he'd been unable to immerse deep enough in the craft to serve as anything more than a light nap.

Tonight, however, as his sons had, at last, retired for the evening, he sank into the familiar pose, cross legged, laying his staff down on the straw mat within easy reach, and closed his eyes. His breathing steadied, and he searched into the darkness behind his lids, until the silent whispering that always filled the air, but few could hear, grew in strength, clear and echoing in the room around him.

Thinking back, hours after the session, Splinter noticed several reasons for the images that lasted into his consciousness, in that split second as he opened his mind. None of them, however, truly covered the extent of the vision itself, as it pounded image upon image into his skull, until he though he would be quite ill. Then, just as it reached a fever pitch of sound and feeling, it faded.

He awoke; gasping, drained, and sprawled on his straw mat, his staff several metres away. The air was silent, and still. There was no movement coming from outside the room. Only the candles still burning on the desk betrayed any loss of time. For a space of time that felt instantaneous, the tiny flames had burned down low, flickering on the wet remains of the wick.

It had represented the first major meditation session in weeks. It had come easily, with a clear and strong feeling and sense behind the images. And precisely why this one worried him as deeply as it had. The vision made no attempt to ease itself from his conscious, but squatted in the back of his mind for days after, obscurely maddening.

He was so distracted; his sons had started asking questions. It had never been his intent to tell them of his meditation sessions, for they faded into haziness, minutes after he roused back to the real world, fate itself saying something- no doubt. It had been simply, a spiritual journey which he had always intended to undertake alone, as is the nature of such things. He made nothing more out of it.

This time, however…was radically different to the misty, indistinct dreams of the past. He felt himself pulled into another place, the surroundings of the vision merged as surely into the background as the walls to his room. He shivered as he felt the coldness of the tiled floor beneath his feet.

It had been so very real. But completely disconcerting; he had nothing to make of it. But one thing he did realise; something was coming.

Someone new.

&&&&&&

The figure flew through the air, arcing widely to land hard on a crowded table surface. With a tumble, it toppled to the ground, and was still.

The silence shock waved into the crowd. No one spoke, their eyes drawn to the stage above…tranced. Harsh, stucco rasps filled the room, expanding and contracting with the hunched, shadowed man towering above them.

It rang on for several seconds, until the figure straightened, and the crowd murmured.

"Now," the words were drawn out, deceptively soft. He paused, evidently soaking up the group's attentive stares. His eyes burned out from beneath the darkened cowl of the metal headgear. Staring straight out into the masses, he growled, furious.

"The next person to question my logic will find themselves at the end of my blade. Is that clear?" No one spoke; and he screamed, the thin strand of control broken.

"IS THAT CLEAR!" He raked again at a lion's roar, striding up to the edge of the platform, hands claws by his sides.

The crowds jumped, and responded as one. "YES, SIR."

The figure turned, satisfied, to the Oriental man leaning against the side of the stage drapes, a curving smirk pulling one side of his scarred face upwards, like a living puppet. The arms remained crossed in front of his robes, hidden in the sleeves of his plain, flowing gi. He spoke up, apologetic.

"They are new," his voice was thick with heavy, broken English. "Young baka, foolish- eager." He spat out the last word clearer, obviously having used it most often. "Weak."

"Eager is good," the man grew thoughtful. "And as for weak…We will soon show them the path to strength." This brought a cruel grin to the foreign man's face, becoming uglier than ever.

"Just do what must be done- And no allowances will be made, this time, if you fail me again!" He drew his cloak around him, and stalked back into the curtain's shadows, disappearing further into the darkened building.

&&&&&&

"Are you sure these readings are accurate?" The man straightened his glasses and stared back at the computer screen. His companion stood behind him, also entranced by the blinking formula at the bottom of the page.

He nodded, clearing his throat. "That's the tenth time I've run those numbers, and each time, the computer gave me this!"

"What about diagnostics?"

"I've had three different tech's in here, and each one gave the system a clean bill of health."

"Spectro-analyzations could be compensating for the radioactive seals…"

He shook his head again. He could feel the excitement rise, unbidden in his chest. "Nope," the man craned his neck to stare at his smiling face. "Even if the readings spiked to above normal levels, which I'm not seeing here, there's a completely different power grid and access panel designed to check and monitor the intensity inside the chamber. This station has no link up to it what-so-ever."

"Some security guy's way up gave the go-ahead at the beginning of the year to install separate access points with individual monitoring systems, just in case one station was compromised or damaged. This means that this here," his fingers touched the screen briefly, "is 99.9 percent accurate."

"99.9 per cent?" The man queried.

He rolled his eyes. "The system is not, as is all technology, 100 per cent precise in it's findings, but based on what it sees here, everything is normal. In that chamber," he couldn't contain the laugh that burst forth, "the weather is perfect."

The man sat back, clearly shaken. After a moment, he turned to the other, who was leaning against the console, eyes on the plexiglass mirror that enshrined one wall, the white walls of the chamber gleaming beyond.

His eyes were wide behind the glasses. "But that means that…"

"Yep." He nodded, sending the man a significant look.

"Oh," he sat back again, only to rocket up a second later, another realisation hitting him. "Oh man, and that means…"

"Yeah." He sat, elbows digging into his knees as he cradled his head in his hands, his hair in disarray from the amount of times he'd run his fingers though it.

"This is going to be big…Like Microsoft big…No, like Internet big…"

"We're so screwed, aren't we?"

"No," the first man shook his head. "This isn't finished yet, you know. There is still our initial report to the Board of Directors on this…" he struggled to find the right words. "…Breakthrough…But, I know they'll give it the go ahead. And then, there'll be the first year of testing, although where they'll find the subje-"

The second man jumped up, waving his hands about. "WHOA! _Slow down!_ Did you hear what I just said?"

He frowned, leaning back further into the chair. "Yeah, I heard you. But it's the same old breakthrough jitters we all get. You'll get over it in a couple of hours, and then we can focus on the project." He stretched around, yawning. "Come on, I'll shout you down at McGann's. This," he threw a glance at the white room beyond the plexiglass, "isn't going anywhere, and we both could use the break."

The other man stared for a second, before sighing, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, alright!"

He grinned at the man opposite. "Last one out buys the first, second and third rounds…"

A groan was stifled across the room. "Should've known better than to make that suggestion with Scrooge the penny pincher! How about first one done, rechecks the security logs?"

The pair turned back to the terminal, oblivious to the silent opening and closing of the door behind them.

"Nah! Just because you always end up closing up last doesn't mean you get pity points!" He toggled the switch for the motherboard, and it powered down with a soft purr.

The shadow moved closer. At its belt, a sword gleamed wickedly in the fading light, unsheathed.

His friend sniped back, dimming the overhead fluro lights, bathing them both in a red glow from the next room. "As opposed to the poor little Momma's boy how graduated Harvard with 2nd highest Honours? Urgh. Please! Kill me now!"

A whistling sound was all the warning he got. The silver gleam sailed through the air, catching him completely unaware. He looked down, registering the blood on his shirt with a 'huh' of surprise, before crumpling to the floor.

His companion turned, alarmed by the thud. With wide eyes, he ran over to his friend, heart pounding. Looking down at the blood welling up from the large hole in his chest, the man gagged on the metallic smell. A creak sounded out from behind him, and he whizzed around, absolutely terrified.

"Who-o-ose there?"

A laugh, low and rumbling, whispered right into his ear. He stopped breathing.

The black figure spoke only one word. "Boo." The silver gleam appeared out of nowhere, and the laughter grew louder.

He screamed.


End file.
